


No Good Deed

by Winterling42



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Building an Equilateral Triangle, Canon Compliant, F/M, First Dates, M/M, Missing Scene, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 08:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12860724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterling42/pseuds/Winterling42
Summary: Set between s1 and 2. Nancy takes advantage of Steve's social life to force her boys to actually talk to each other. Maybe express FEELINGS? No way.





	1. Chapter 1

"You could take Jonathan with you," Nancy suggested, like it was no big deal. Like just hearing his name didn't make Steve jump out of his skin. 

"What? Jonathan Byers?" As if there was any other Jonathan they knew.

"Yes Jonathan Byers." Nancy leaned forward, poking the bed in front of her for emphasis. "He's much nicer than you think, and he's great at taking pictures. Your parents would love it."

"Yeah, great at taking creepy pictures." Steve was absolutely certain that, no matter the consequences, he'd been in the right on that one. "How would I even introduce him? Hey Mom, hey Dad, this is the guy I beat up a monster with. He's pretty cool, when he's not creeping on our actual house."

Nancy gave him her I'm-better-than-you annoyed face. "Come on Steve. Even you must've been on the outside looking in one time. Jonathan messed up, but so did you. You've both apologized, so when are you going to get over it?"

"We're never going to be friends, Nance," Steve said. And if he was convinced for more reasons than he let on, he didn't have to tell her that. "And I am  _not_  inviting him to an awards ceremony for my dad's company." 

Nancy shrugged like she didn't care, which was...suspicious. "Alright," she said, completely cool. Another dead giveaway. "I just thought it'd be a good time, since I can't make it." 

Steve narrowed his eyes, but Nancy had turned back to her biology textbook and wouldn't look at him. Sometimes, when he remembered how far out of his league she was, he was kind of scared of Nancy Wheeler.


	2. Chapter 2

He was right to be scared. Nancy went right over his head and  _introduced Jonathan Byers to his mom_. Steve had to come home and listen to her talk about, "That boy with the camera," for an  _hour_. He had no idea how Byers had come off as charming, either, because Jonathan and charming went together like cats and water. But his mom was going on about how nice it was that 'a boy like that' was trying to make something of himself, and how their family had a responsibility to nurture the less fortunate in Hawkins, and on and on and on. 

And of course at the end she dropped that she'd hired 'the boy' to come along to the dinner, because, "Nancy assured me you wouldn't mind pointing out all the best people for your father to be seen with. And of course it was much less expensive than hiring a personal photographer." 

"Of course." Steve said, smiling through the sour taste in the back of his throat. "No problem Mom. I'm going to head upstairs, kay? Lots of. You know. Homework." 

Steve had never in his life done homework more than a day before it was due, but his Mom just waved him off with a, "Oh yes dear." And went to call Becky and tell  _her_ about how the Harringtons were upstanding citizens for hiring a needy high school student for a photographer. She couldn't even remember Jonathan's name. 

What he really wanted to do was call Nancy and ask how she could betray him like this, but his Mom was bound to be on the phone for hours, so he did the next best thing. He laid on his back and stared at the ceiling for the rest of the day, letting his imagination inform him of every single way that this was a horrible idea. He couldn't believe Jonathan'd agreed to this. And there would be  _suits_ it was a  _formal event_ \--wait, did Jonathan even have a suit? Steve groaned and rolled over so he could face plant into a pillow. This was going to be a  _disaster_. 


	3. Chapter 3

To spare them all the embarrassment of having Steve's parents see the Byers' place (looking better than it had in November, but that...wasn't saying much) Steve braved the wilderness alone. Nancy was at a concert tonight, maybe the only thing that she couldn't get out of without actually breaking a limb. Mr. Dennis was fanatical about his concert band, and if you missed the final concert, BAM, there went your grade. 

Logically, Steve knew Nancy couldn't fail her classes with the same poise as he did. But pulling up outside the little house with the sun flashing on the windows, he couldn't stop his heart from racing. His hands itched for something solid to hold onto, something to beat away this fear. 

He put his shaking hands in his pockets and walked up to the door like a normal human being, kicked mud off his shoes on the porch steps and knocked politely. 

Joyce Byers was shorter than him and three times as nervous. She smiled up at him in a testing kind of way. "You must be Steve," she said, and suddenly he wondered what she'd heard about him. What Hawkins' most notorious single mother knew about King Steve Harrington. "Well, come on in. Jonathan's just about ready." 

Steve ended up standing with one foot in the kitchen and one in the front hallway, trying not to be obvious when he scoped the place out. The christmas lights were gone, thank god, although the sloppy black alphabet was still up. There was a large charred patch of carpet where the monster had burned, but the smell was mostly gone, replaced by store cleaner, bleach, and the chocolate chip cookies Joyce was cooking. It was the middle of April, but she didn't seem to care, shuttling a tray of cookies out of the oven while he watched. 

"Will, can you tell Jonathan his ride's here?" 

The youngest Byers (the formerly dead one) tore his eyes off his game of Galaga just long enough to shout, "JONATHAN! STEVE'S HERE!" and smiled back at his mom's exasperated sigh. 

No video game music was going to be loud enough to cover up Jonathan's panicked, "SHIT," from the back hall, but Steve could pretend not to have heard it. 

"It smells amazing in here," Steve said, because he was charming Goddamnit, even if it didn't feel like it. Even if this house was still twisting his stomach into knots. 

And Mrs. Byers smiled back at him, a little less calculating than before. "Thanks. They're Will's favorite. Oh, go ahead and take one if you want, I know you guys are going to some kind of dinner but--"

As if Steve was going to turn down free food. "Ah, I'm sure it's fine. What's a few chocolate chips between friends?" 

Which was how Steve ended up with a mouth full of cookie when Jonathan Byers walked into the kitchen still tugging at his bow tie. He didn't look different, really, but at the same time he totally did. It was all in the way he stood up straight, tilted his head so the hair didn't really cover his eyes. It was like he  _wanted_  to be noticed. In the middle of Steve's stressed out brain, it was intoxicating. A kind of safety he hadn't even known he was looking for. This guy had his back, no questions asked. 

"Hey," he managed to choke out, once he'd managed to swallow the cookie crumbs and sticky chocolate. Jonathan flashed him a  _smile_ , nervous but undeniably a smile. 

"Hey." 

"You have everything you need?" Mrs. Byers asked, pausing her cookie-making to come straighten Jonathan's jacket. "Your camera, your wallet? You wrote down the new number just in case?" 

"Yeah Mom," Jonathan kept saying. "Yeah, I got it." But he didn't say it like Steve did to his mom, annoyed and impatient. He said it more gently, like he knew the question but didn't mind answering it a million times. It struck Steve that this was what Jonathan Byers looked like with his walls down. Just like the suit, it wasn't completely different than his normal self, but it also... was. 

"OK," she said at last, stepping back and smiling so wide Steve thought her cheeks might crack. "I'm so  _proud_  of you, Jonathan. Getting professional jobs before you're even out of high school." She punched his shoulder lightly, and Jonathan laughed, moved with her. But he looked up at Steve, when his Mom couldn't see, and every single wall was up there in his eyes. Steve looked away, put his half a cookie back on the paper-covered table. Suddenly, he wasn't hungry anymore. 

"We should get going," Steve said at last, a little louder than he'd meant to. "It's about an hour out from Hawkins." 

Mrs. Byers nodded like she'd been to the country club a hundred times, and Steve took the opportunity to duck out the door. Behind him, Will wished his brother luck, and Jonathan laughed, "Yeah right." 

And then the door swung shut behind him, and all that was left was the dark and the driveway and the two of them. "Nancy said you'd go for it." Jonathan said, barely audible over the crunch of gravel under their feet. "I don't know why, but I didn't believe her." 

"Never underestimate Nancy Wheeler," Steve muttered, just as soft. "I didn't really believe she'd do it either." 

"Well." Jonathan stopped and looked at Steve over the top of his car. "You can still cut and run if you want. Last chance." 

"Are you kidding me?" Steve asked, mirroring him. "My mom would kill me. Seriously, get in the car. We're doing this." And if Jonathan had to take a few breaths to psych himself up to it, Steve didn't mind. He'd done the same thing just getting this far, after all. 


	4. Chapter 4

They took the trip out to the club in complete silence. Well, not really. Steve had the radio on after about fifteen seconds, and he  _knew_  Jonathan was picky about music but he needed something other than engine noise to distract him. He stared fixedly at the road when the first song on was "Girls just wanna have fun," but other than that the ride was smooth. Smooth ish. As good as could be expected. And if Jonathan tapped his hands along to the Ramones, Steve definitely wasn't taking note. 

Steve didn't hesitate in the car or in the parking lot, but just outside the ball room, he stopped for a second. Jonathan was fiddling with his camera--it wasn't new anymore, it wasn't a gift anymore, but Steve remembered buying it. Remembered being too chicken to give it to Byers himself. 

"Listen," he said, and it was like hearing himself speak through a video. Far away and disconnected. "Stick with me, OK? I know we're not friends or whatever, but I've got your back in there. Yeah?" 

"Sure." Jonathan frowned when he said it, but he said it. Steve licked his lips, unable to  _stop_  thinking about how sideways this was going to go. 

But in they went. Steve smiled in all the right places, shook his dad's hand, hugged his mom. Introduced Jonathan as a friend from school and listened to the shutter click without grinding his teeth. He spent more time looking at Jonathan than anything else that night, including eating. He told himself it was just instinct to look at the person out of place here. One of these is not like the others, or something. And Jonathan  _was_  out of place: didn't talk the same way, didn't act the same way, didn't smile at all the same jokes. He was out of this world. Here just to photograph an alien life form. It was obvious that this was how it would play out. Nancy must have seen it from a mile away. Jonathan retreating behind his camera lens and Steve hiding in front of it, making small talk with state senators and industry men. Steve shouldn't have been disappointed. He  _really_  shouldn't be wishing he could see straight through a camera, wishing he could pull away glass and plastic to find out who was behind it. Absurdly, he wished there were chocolate chip cookies for dessert. 

It was boring, and long, and just about the same as every other dinner party Steve'd been to with his folks. At least until the wine started really going around, and people started being more interested in the boy with the camera. 

"That's a nice machine you got there," Rob McCreary said from behind, so both Steve and Jonathan had to turn and talk to him. "Mind if I take a look?"  McCreary was one of his dad's smarmy salesmen, and every time Steve talked to him he was left with the sudden need to take a shower.

"Uh, sure." Jonathan glanced at Steve, like he was asking permission, but Steve just shrugged. McCreary wasn't likely to drop and break the thing, at least not on purpose. Which was more than Steve could say for himself, really. 

"I'm a hobbyist photographer myself, you know. How else you gonna get the ladies coming around, eh?" He winked, and Steve managed to turn his grimace into a smile. Jonathan wasn't so lucky. 

"This is a Nikon 3000, isn't it? Pretty pricey for a kid your age." 

There was literally nothing that got Jonathan's back up as fast as money. "It's not so much. I--got it as a gift." 

"Well, gifts are a wonderful thing," McCreary said, handing the camera back. Of course then he had to ruin it by adding, "Just don't rely on charity when you get to college, isn't that right Harrington?" 

Jonathan was frozen next to him, stiff as a board, and Steve was on the spot with his smile getting more strained every second. "I guess I"m not in college yet, so I wouldn't know. Sir." 

"Are you not?" 

"Nope. Still waiting on acceptance letters, you know how it is." Steve made a show of putting a hand on Jonathan's shoulder. "Sorry Mr. McCreary, I think I see my mom over there looking for a photographer. Thanks for coming." He steered them away before McCreary could say anything else. 

One asshole, Steve could deal with. He'd expected a pretty high level of it, especially directed at Jonathan. But some of the things that made Byers blow up just didn't make sense. They had actually gotten to the closing speech from the club manager, just thanking everybody for attending, when Jonathan slipped out. Steve might not have even noticed, except he turned to look when he heard the side door crack open. He hesitated for a second, glancing around at all the slightly drunk adults starting to yawn, and bet that he wouldn't be missed. 

Byers was out by the car, his shoulders hunched and his head hanging low and his arms crossed like a wall in front of him. Steve came to a stop one step in front of him, just a little too close for comfort. Just close enough to feel the faint body heat coming off him like another wall. "You OK man?" Steve asked. At a loss for what to do with his hands, he stuck them in his pockets, put his weight back on his heels. Waited for Jonathan to tell him to piss off. 

"I'm fine," Byers said, but his voice was rougher than usual. "You know your parents were bragging about how cheap I was? I was standing right there, and they were talking about how much money they'd saved." 

"Yeah they're kinda all about money." Steve said it to distract himself from the big pit that'd opened in his stomach, but it didn't really work. Jonathan tilted his head just far enough for Steve to see the 'no shit' expression on his face. "I'm sorry man, what'd you want me to say?" 

"Nothing. Why would you have anything to say?" Steve hadn't thought it possible for Jonathan to get any tenser, but he managed it. "It's not like we're friends or anything." 

He wished they were fighting. He wished Jonathan would throw a punch just to get rid of some of the awful rasping in his throat, the trip-wire tension in his shoulders. He wished Nancy were here to untangle all this, or at least call bullshit. Steve couldn't quite manage it. Instead, he said the first stupid thing that came into his head. 

"I don't think you're cheap." 

"What?" For the first time tonight, Jonathan met Steve's eyes squarely. Byers' were a little over bright, a little to careful not to spill. Underneath that, they were surprised, maybe even in a good way. 

Steve shrugged, kicked at the asphalt with one of his shiny dress shoes. "I don't. I mean, I'll admit I haven't seen too much of your actual 'work,' you know. But it's not about that, man. It's about...being you. Like, anybody else would've been sucking up to my parents--trust me, personal experience on that one--or getting drunk, or trying to be cool. You're just, you. It's not that you don't care what people think--" Jonathan tried to interrupt him, but Steve just got louder and kept talking. "You care what people think, man, but then you just...keep going."

"That's your pep talk?" Jonathan asked, raising one eyebrow. There was less of a rasp under his voice, though, and Steve would take it. "'Just keep going?'" 

Steve rolled his eyes. "It's a compliment, Byers, take it or leave it." 

He fished the keys out of his pocket and twirled them around, pretending this wasn't the same thing he'd done with Nancy after dinner at the Holland's last week. "You wanna blow this joint or what?" 

Jonathan didn't laugh until Steve added the eyebrow waggle, but it totally worked. "Yeah, sure. And...Steve?" 

Steve stopped with one foot in the car, waiting for another bombshell of awful from the party. But Jonathan just looked at him, brushed his hair out of his face for once and  _looked_ at him. 

"Thanks." 


End file.
